


Pin Me Down

by Hella_Queer



Category: Free!, Free! Eternal Summer - Fandom
Genre: Fingering, Future Fish Au, Kinktober 2017, M/M, makoharu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 22:26:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12285540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: Across the room, in between people and the idle chatter and the heat, Makoto’s gaze zeros in on Haru.Hewinks.





	Pin Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober #3: Sthenolagnia (Strength/Muscles) (MakoHaru)

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Iwatobi’s fifth annual firehouse fundraiser had been a huge success. Every local business had done something to contribute: art supplies for crafts, clothing donations, baked goods, discount toys and prizes for the raffles. A few bouncy castles had been set up out back, and towards the end of the night a live band had come to perform a few songs. 

And _Dive_ had supplied a great majority of the food, free of charge. 

All of this, combined with games, a tour of the firehouse for the kids, and the promise of a calendar sometime next year—because who wouldn't want twelve themed photos of the most attractive people hanging on their wall—made for an excellent turnout. 

So why the hell did Haru feel like breaking something right now? The answer was currently in a heated arm wrestling match with Mikoshiba Seijurou, the oldest crew member, and before Makoto joined, the strongest. 

The rest of the firefighters and the remaining assorted staff had all retreated upstairs to the kitchen. Makoto and Mikoshiba are on either side of a small table, wrists tied together with a shoelace. They're eyes are locked, neither refusing to show any weakness, though Mikoshiba’s leg bounces a bit. It's hot, the air warm with all the bodies packed inside. Haru tugs on the collar of his shirt from his spot by the fridge. 

Thick cords of muscle wrap around Makoto’s arm, and his jaw clenches when Mikoshiba makes another attempt to push him down. He gives in a bit before forcing their arms back into place. Every inch of him seems tight, coiled, and Haru licks his lips, trying to pass it off as dry mouth. He wasn't subtle about his and Makoto’s relationship, but no one here needed to know just how eager he was to get the man alone. He had been very patient. He didn't frown or dismiss anyone who talked too much, he talked with the kids when they wandered up to his table, eyes bigger than their stomachs, and he didn't demand Makoto’s undivided attention, even though he really, really wanted it. 

All day the man had walked around playing Atlas; carrying the heaviest boxes and equipment when they were setting up earlier that morning, letting kids ride around on his shoulders, that endurance contest where he ended up sweating through his shirt—why was it so tight? Watching him take it off had been torture. Haru wanted to do it—and being completely oblivious to all the hungry eyes that followed him. Including his boyfriend’s

Makoto was a sculpted Adonis, yet whenever he got his hands on Haru, he treated him like glass. They've been dating for six months, and although Haru wasn't keeping count, the time spent in Makoto’s bed had been a little more than average. There isn't an inch of Haru that hasn't been intimately explored by the other man, and many lazy mornings have been spent mapping out the dips and curves of his giant boyfriend. But despite everything they've done, all the nervous confessions and the affectionate gifts, the only physical proof Haru has been able to gain are a few hickeys. 

He watches the way Makoto’s entire arm flexes as he pushes against Mikoshiba, the veins in the back of his hand making little rivers under his skin. His chest glistens in the dim lighting, stomach a flat plane with divots that Haru’s tongue knew _oh so well_. A bead of sweat rolls down his neck and collects in the valley of his collarbone. Haru’s hands twitches with desire. 

It's a close match, but with a grunt of determination, and an over the top growl, Mikoshiba makes quick work of getting his boyfriend’s arm to lay flat. There's a collective gasp, and Haru has to smirk. Whether they knew it or not everyone had been rooting for Makoto to win. Who wouldn't want to see his beautiful smile? The way his eyes lit up when he received praise? Truly one of Haru’s favorite expressions, but it doesn't look like he’ll be seeing it tonight. 

Across the room, in between people and the idle chatter and the heat, Makoto’s gaze zeros in on Haru. He _winks._ A small thing, lasting only two seconds at most, but it's there. Makoto’s attention turns back to Mikoshiba, and the younger man gives his own animalistic sound of triumph, sounding like a mighty warrior. His arm shakes a little as he lifts Mikoshiba’s back up, only to keep going, only to slam the back of his hand against the table, teeth gleaming in a leer that not one fucking notices. No one but the man across the room. 

Haru’s moan is buried under the sound of cheers and applause. Mikoshiba accepts defeat with a hearty laugh, gives Makoto a good game handshake and ruffles his hair while putting him in a headlock. Meanwhile, by the fridge, Haru can barely breathe. His skin feels entirely too warm, and he knows it has nothing to do with the heat. Makoto catches his gaze amidst the bodies crowding in to congratulate him, and his eyes gleam. There was a question: _are you coming home with me?_ As if Haru could wait the train ride to get to his own apartment. Not when Makoto’s was within walking distance of the station. 

So Haru nods, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, already annoyed with the itchy fabric rubbing against his skin. He sends back his own message, one that's probably clear with how his legs are pressed together, how his teeth trap his bottom lip, how his eyes roam over all of Makoto’s exposed skin. He puts on his shirt from before, the too tight, damp stretch of white fabric, and catches Haru’s hungry gaze yet again. He blushes this time, but doesn't look away, and when they say their goodbyes, Haru shudders when a large, warm hand guides him by the small of his back. He doesn't speak, but he's almost certain Makoto can hear him anyway. 

_Hurry._

____________________

After six months—honestly way before tonight—it seemed like Makoto could read Haru’s mind. When he was upset he knew the right words to say to get him to talk. When he was nervous Makoto chose that moment to appear beside him and offer physical comfort. And when Haru wanted something, _really_ wanted something, Makoto made him wait.

When they arrive at his apartment, the man spends a good ten minutes straightening up, arranging his messy coffee table and putting dirty dishes in the sink. Haru let's him stall, taking his time removing his shoes and jacket. His eyes though, they follow Makoto. They follow the curve of his back when he bends over to grab a fall throw blanket, the way he works his jaw while deciding where to put his book, they consume every sheepish smile and heated glance. He doesn’t know how it was possible for someone to be so unaware of their sex appeal, but he doesn't mind letting him know. 

As soon as Makoto stops moving—paused between the bathroom and the bedroom, no doubt debating how far to take this little charade—Haru is on him. When Makoto gets like this, playful, Haru has to stand on his toes to reach him. But once his fingers curl into his hair, once he winds his other arm around those broad shoulders, Makoto melts. 

Makoto tries to hold back but Haru doesn't let him, pushes until those plush, pink lips are prying his open, and he's being held in place by hands that know his body all too well. Rarely does his boyfriend allow himself to be rough, his marshmallow heart so big in his chest, but Haru bites at his lips, tugs on his hair, uses the weapons he has at his disposal to coax Makoto into giving him what he wants, what they both want tonight. 

“We should shower,” Makoto gets out when they break for air. “I-I should, I mean. I'm all gross and sweaty and–”

“No.” Haru gets his hands under Makoto’s shirt, splays his fingers across his those abs that he wants to taste. “I want you like this.” 

He doesn't explain further, but he doesn't need to. Looking up he catches sight of that expression he wore back at the firehouse. The open, hungry look that betrays any sense of bashfulness. Haru pushes up the hem of Makoto’s shirt, lets the man finish the job, but somehow Haru ends up being the one laid bare right there in the hall. 

“Only if I can have you like this.” 

It's a race to see who can get the other into the bedroom first. Haru almost trips over his underwear, but strong arms around his waist _lift him up_ and gently bring him to the bed. Haru lands on his knees and turns quick, grabbing Makoto’s belt. 

“Let me.” He tugs him closer, eyeing the bulge just below his knuckles. He wants him, all of him, as soon as he can get him. But Makoto takes his hand and nods at his bedside drawer instead, where he keeps the lube and condoms. 

“If you let me open you up, I'm going slow.” He says it like a warning, like he's testing Haru. “You tend to whine when I do that.”

Haru’s cheeks glow pink. “I don't _whine_ about it.” This coming from the man who didn't kiss him until their ninth date? Unbelievable! Haru opens the drawer with an obvious pout, scoffing as he drops the familiar bottle and foil package by the pillow. He hears Makoto’s pants drop to the floor and starts lazily stroking himself, needing something to take the edge off. 

“Hurry up,” he says, getting comfortable on his back. He puts a pillow under his hips to save time, knowing Makoto always insisted on it. He hears a chuckle, deep and fond, and then Makoto is right where he wants him. Or so he thinks. 

Too late Haru realizes the trap he willingly walked into. 

Makoto gets his fingers wet, rubs slow little circles over where Haru wants him most, and doesn't do anything else. Haru grunts, wraps a leg around his waist and digs his heel into his back, but that just makes him go slower. Frustrated, Haru reaches down to do it himself. 

A strong hand captures his wrist, and when Haru raises the other in surprise, Makoto gets that one too. He pins his hands above his head, squeezes once, then goes back to rubbing. Dark green eyes glance briefly at his flushed, open face, and for a split second that leer is back, almost like he doesn't register the face he's making. 

Haru groans, head falling back against the pillow. Makoto murmurs soft words when the first finger slips inside, and he dips down to kiss down his chest. Every time Haru thinks Makoto has become distracted, and tries to free his hands so he can _touch_ like he's wanted to do all night, that warm hand will tighten around his wrists, and those sinfully long fingers slow to a crawl. 

It's the best kind of torture. Haru stops trying to count the minutes, lets his hands go slack, and turns to hide his face in his forearm. His traitorous hips chase after Makoto whenever he pulls away, and he's so warm and slick and loose when Makoto finally, _finally_ makes it to three fingers. 

“You're so cute, Haru-chan.” Makoto smiles down at him, hips twitching forward, his body giving away how much he wants this. “I should show off more often, if it gets you like this.” 

Haru, hazy and confused, can't grasp onto his words at first. He doesn't even notice when Makoto releases him to put on the condom. Only when he's being guided to sit up, to climb into Makoto’s lap, do things click into place. 

So he _was_ aware of how ridiculously hot he was. And he had used it. On purpose. 

“I'm calling off from work tomorrow.” 

“Huh? Why?” That adorably confused look did nothing to erase the new knowledge Haru now had in possession. His lips are hot and insistent as he shuffles backwards, landing on his back and pulling Makoto down on top of him. That brief moment before Makoto gets his hands under him, when his entire weight crushes Haru into his bed, has him sighing in pure bliss. 

“Because when we’re finished, I don't wanna be able to walk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dive is Haru’s restaurant in case that wasn't clear lol


End file.
